


A Christmas Curse

by Sisterofmayhem



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-06 02:22:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sisterofmayhem/pseuds/Sisterofmayhem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is a few days till Christmas and Severus finds he isn't in the mood to deal with one Harry Potter. As always, Harry still finds a way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Christmas Curse

Severus would have sworn, even on his poor mother’s grave, he honestly did not know how he ended up in this horrible predicament. For a few minutes - or so it seemed, it could have been seconds as well, or hours - he could only stare and try to make sense of what he was seeing. When he tried to think back (and he made a conscious effort to do so) he could  recall the visit he paid to the library earlier that evening, where he’d gotten lost in a book about healing potions used within the goblin community. He’d been thinking about giving the eight-year students a lecture about that topic after the Christmas holidays, since they were already covering healing potions in general anyway, and it wouldn’t hurt to broaden their horizon just a bit. He’d been reading and taking extensive notes, the way he always did when preparing lessons, and had forgotten about his surroundings completely.

He remembered the exact moment he’d looked at the library clock, taking note that it read half past midnight already and thinking it might be time to retire to his quarters and get a good night’s rest. He supposed he could even sleep in; there were no classes to teach the next morning. No obligations whatsoever, in fact, besides brewing Poppy a new batch of Cough Potion to be prepared when the student body came back after the Christmas holidays. He allowed himself a few seconds to feel content about the prospect of finally having time on his hands again, contrary to the last few weeks that had been nothing but hectic. Then the moment passed and he studied the book in front of him again, frowning as he tried to recapture the train of thought he’d had right before he got distracted. And then… nothing. One moment he’d been awake and aware, and the next it felt as if he’d been switched off like a television.

When he woke again, or became conscious, or whatever it could be called, the first thing he was aware of was that the back of his head throbbed slowly and that his mouth felt dry. He assessed the situation briefly and decided his headache wasn’t really that bad and any discomfort would probably be solved instantly if he got his hands on a large glass of water. His eyelids felt heavy too and he vaguely wondered why that was. Barely awake, he was nonetheless aware of the fact that he was deadly tired, and that his thoughts came in sluggish waves. But he didn’t have an immediate reason to panic, he reasoned, because he was warm and comfortable and obviously lying on a mattress, so since there was apparently nothing to worry about, he let it go for the moment. Then the inevitable question slowly wormed itself through his clouded brain: Why was he lying on a mattress in the first place when he had a perfectly good bed in his quarters? The next moment he recognized the creaking sound the bed made, and realized that he was, in fact, lying in his very own bed. How strange. How did he end up here? He couldn’t remember having left the library…

And just like that, it was like the television was switched back on, and several realizations came to him all at once. He wasn’t alone. There was somebody lying next to him. In fact, pressed firmly against his front, to be honest, and Severus didn’t want to think about why he was spooning a naked man, because that was apparently what he was doing. This situation was, without a doubt, on the wrong side of strange.

Severus tried to wriggle his fingers. It seemed like they were stuck and they felt awkwardly stiff, like they’d been trapped for a while already. They were warm, and moist, and despite everything, Severus couldn’t help but admit it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant feeling, but then he wondered _where…_

He jerked upright in panic, only to be greeted by an image that confirmed his very worst fears. Something ice cold, like a small snowball, melted in his stomach and Severus felt like he would be sick. Because there was indeed a stark naked man in his bed and that was _bad_ , extremely so, because, _oh Merlin, oh no,_ he would have recognized that tousled brown mane out of a crowd of hundred. Potter. It was _Potter_. The boy was fast asleep in his bed and he had no idea why, and if Severus could have denied it, he would have, vehemently. But he couldn’t, because the evidence was right there in front of him. There were four, he counted. Four of his blasted, blasted fingers. Somehow wedged appallingly deep inside the Boy Who Slept Through It as if absolutely nothing was happening.

SS

Severus blinked. Severus swallowed.

“Crap…” he muttered, “Oh _fuck_.”

How in Merlin’s name had he ended up here? Had cruel fate relocated him to some twisted parallel universe? Because Severus knew that in _his_ world, things like these simply didn’t happen. There would be no reason at all for Harry Potter to be in his bed. None at all. Except that, Severus had to admit, well…he was. So there had to be a reason. But Severus stared, and he couldn’t find any.

He pulled his fingers out, trying to be quick about it and absolutely not paying attention to the disgustingly slick sound it made. He looked at his moist fingers, feeling utterly bewildered. Because Severus had been quite sure that Potter, even now the war was over, still held a fierce grudge towards him. So what in the world was wrong with the boy?

Severus let his eyes wander around the room, trying to find something that would make sense of the situation. The small lamp on his bedside table cast a subdued light, enough to discern what was directly around him, and he spotted two wands on his nightstand. One of them he recognized as his own. The other must be Potter’s.

He reached for it, leaning over Potter’s back. Severus was careful not to jostle him, because the last thing he needed right now was for Potter to wake up. He retrieved his wand and examined it closely first. It was only after a full minute that he was positive his wand hadn’t been tampered with. He pointed it at his fingers, then blinked. There was a fine thread of blood going from the top of his finger to the first knuckle. Severus lowered his wand. Unthinkingly he brought his hand to his nose, and sniffed. A mixture of fresh sweat, vanilla scented oil and clean arse filled his nostrils. His eyes darted to the boy, who was sleeping innocently on his side. He kept looking, eyes glued to the relaxed face, and for the first time Severus felt concerned for the boys’ health. He looked like he was in no danger, but that was just an assumption. A quickly muttered spell had Severus’ hand instantly cleaned, and with a second one Severus healed any internal wounds Potter might have had. Just to be sure, Severus told himself.

Very, very slowly and heedful he tugged at the boy’s shoulder, until he was lying on his back. There was a moment when Potter moved his arm and made a discontented noise and Severus held his breath. He didn’t dare move until he was absolutely sure that Potter had relaxed again and wasn’t about to wake up. Only then did he allow his gaze to wander away from his face and he took the opportunity to look at the boy more closely. He shouldn’t have been surprised, given what he’d already seen, but the mere sight of the boy still came as a small shock.

Potter’s chest was drenched in semen. Not a few drops, no, but rope after rope crisscrossed his torso. Severus groaned and closed his eyes. That definitely wasn’t from one orgasm, and probably not even from one person. One simple spell confirmed to Severus what he already knew: the pearly necklace was his. He curled his hand in a frustrated fist. What on earth had that deranged boy been thinking?

While he was mulling that question over in a daze, suddenly a familiar scent reached his nostrils. He looked at Potter’s face, his nose, his mouth. Then he leaned forward and inhaled intently. He knew that smell inside and out and he could only come to one conclusion: Potter was dead-drunk. It took a potions master’s nose to spot wodka on someone’s breath, but then again, Severus’ lousy father had taught him well in the past.

The alcohol was sure to be a part of the explanation of why Potter had antagonized his teacher in such a drastic manner. It wasn’t difficult to imagine that the war had taken its toll on Potter. The deaths of his two best friends at the hands of Bellatrix and Fenrir were sure to haunt his dreams for a very long time. If drinking wodka helped Potter to keep the dark memories at bay, who was he to judge him? Didn’t he have his own demons to fight? Well, he did, but on the other hand, _this_ … Severus’ eyes roamed disconcertedly over Potter’s body… This was a whole new level of coping.

Severus again leaned forward and picked the other wand from his bedside table. He realized he wasn’t so scared anymore that Potter would wake up. If he did, it would be merely very awkward. Potter would no doubt apologize profusely and they would avoid looking at each other for the remainder of the year. And after that, Potter would leave Hogwarts to find a job and they’d never have to lay eyes on each other again. End of story.

Severus wasn’t sure what his plan was with Potter’s wand, until he realized he should check the last spell Potter had cast with it. It was stupid of him not to think of that earlier, Severus recognized. _Of course_ Potter had put him under some sort of enchantment. A Confundus Charm most likely.

‘Prior Incantato,’ Severus whispered.

Potter’s wand tip glowed lilac for a second and Severus heard the answer inside his head.

_Imperio._

Severus frowned. No, that couldn’t be. Potter wouldn’t have used an Unforgivable on him. He pointed his wand again.

‘Prior Incantato,” he said for the second time.

It was of no use. He only got a confirmation that Potter had indeed Imperiused him.

Severus’ hand dropped onto the bed and he clenched his teeth, trying to keep the anger that was welling up at bay. Potter had used an Unforgivable on him. He had cast one of the three curses. Severus tried to convince himself that _Imperius_ and _Confundo_ were actually more or less the same if you didn’t look too closely, but even while he was thinking it, his hand was already balling into a fist.

He tried fruitlessly not to think of the war, and how often he had suffered at the hands of Voldemort. He had been one of the lucky. Voldemort chose his victims and his curses with care. The Cruciatus Curse had hit him only once, but he would never again forget it. Others hadn’t been so fortunate. He’d seen Voldemort send a woman under the Imperius Curse back into her burning house and she hadn’t even screamed. All those people, all those green jets of death. There had been countless victims that Severus hadn’t been able to help. And now, out of all spells, Potter chose to use that wretched curse? It didn’t matter how drunk he was, he had crossed a line.

Severus got out of bed and wrapped his bathrobe around him. He was done with this. He had kept Potter alive time and time again, and he got rewarded with this sort of perverted abuse? He would make sure it would be the very last time.

He quickly picked up Potter’s clothes from the ground and took Potter’s wand in his other hand.

“Levicorpus,” he muttered, and Potter’s sleeping form floated calmly up from the bed. He opened the door and levitated Potter out of his room, into the drafty hallway. He carefully lowered Potter until he was about three inches parallel with the ground and then dropped him unceremoniously. His head hit the floor with a satisfyingly loud thunk and Severus watched as Potter jerked awake.

“No, wait,” he uttered, panicked, “What…?”

Potter saw him standing in the doorway right then, and the confusion in his eyes quickly made room for dawning comprehension. He looked terrified, Severus noticed, and he suspected the goosebumps on Potter’s arms weren’t only there because of the cold.

“You will never do that to me again, or I will curse your balls off,” Severus threatened and Potter scrambled back in genuine fear. His eyes were starting to shine suspiciously – no doubt the boy felt humiliated to the bone. Well, it served him right.

Severus realized he didn’t want to deal with him a moment longer. He was truly done with Potter, once and for all. He threw Potter’s clothes out of the door and Potter immediately tried to cover himself. At last he tossed him his wand. The boy didn’t even attempt to catch it. He was wide-eyed and shaking with terror.

“S…Sorry,” he stuttered.

“I have no use for that,” Severus replied, “Don’t come back here.”

Severus threw the door shut in his face, leaned against the wall and rubbed his temples. He sighed. This was going to be a long Christmas holiday, he knew. He walked over to his cabinet. Never mind the glass of water he had been thinking of earlier. He was in desperate need of a stronger drink.


	2. A Christmas Curse

For nearly two nights in a row, Severus couldn’t sleep. No surprise there. What was more, even during the day he found he couldn’t avoid what had happened. Not with Potter’s tired, frightened, red-rimmed eyes continually darting over to him at breakfast, at lunch, and at dinner.

The boy was a wreck, there was no other word for it. And so he should be, Severus told himself. At least Potter had the decency to be ashamed about what he had done. That hadn’t gone unnoticed to him. A few times already it had seemed like Potter wanted to walk up to him, to mutter some embarrassing apology no doubt, but one glare from Severus, and the boy had lost all his assembled courage. Severus liked it better that way. Merlin knew he didn’t want to speak about it ever again.

Be that as it may, Severus had to admit his thoughts were a bit harder to deal with. His anger had not abated very much, and only now did he start to feel how shook up he was by it all. Severus liked for things to be normal and familiar. He was convinced he had deserved that after the war. But that cursed child had succeeded in driving him out of his comfort zone and every time he thought about it, Severus had to work not to let his fury show. Harry had very quickly learned to keep his distance, and Severus watched as the boy tried desperately to blend in with the scenery the next few days. At the breakfast table he always chose a seat in the middle, so he could easily disappear between the other students. Severus never bumped into him in the corridors, and coincidence or not, he was extremely grateful for it. He tried to ignore the boy as best he could.

Severus felt frustrated about the fact that he couldn’t even properly report Potter. Well, technically he could, but somehow he didn’t believe a conversation about that with McGonagall would turn out in his favor. Yes, it would be easy to prove his innocence and Potter’s guilt with the _Prior Incantato_ spell. But what good would that do? He would still be forced to confess horrendous facts, and he didn’t want his colleague seeing him as a degenerate who fornicated with his pupils. He just hoped, no, _prayed,_ that Potter felt the same about this and kept his mouth shut. But he wasn’t sure, not at all.

As the days swiftly passed by and Christmas drew nearer, Severus was relieved to notice that the boy seemed to keep quiet about their secret. At least it was one thing less to fret over. He tried to think as little as possible anyway, because thinking made his head throb and his shoulders ache. There were so many questions to ponder, but Severus pushed them away, one after the other, lest he drown in them. He simply decided that Potter had just been irresponsibly drunk, made a monumental mistake and that was all there was to it. Mind you, he was far from forgiving Potter, but thinking like that helped him to deal with it.

Still, Severus felt the need to escape Potter and those distraught green eyes from time to time. He hated fleeing, but when he went to visit Hogsmeade under the pretext of purchasing Christmas gifts for Minerva and Slughorn one afternoon, he found he could breathe again for a while. He had a Red Currant Rum in the Leaky Cauldron, where he talked for a while with Tom, the bartender and an old acquaintance. He stayed as long as he could, sidestepping dinner at Hogwarts in favor of a meal at the pub. Severus felt a bit lighter when he returned to the castle later that evening.

When he entered his quarters, he rubbed his eyes tiredly and decided to finish the lesson preparations he’d started a few days ago. He tossed his keys on the bedside table, didn’t bother with folding his cloak and just draped it carelessly over a chair and lit a few candles with a flick of his wand. His gaze darted inadvertently to the rumpled sheets on his bed and he quickly looked away again. He couldn’t even stand to look at his bed anymore; it was infuriating. He took a seat behind his desk, and pulled his notes to him. Reaching for his quill and the inkwell, his attention got caught by a red spot on his index finger. _Was that…?_

A wave of dread rolled over him, but then he blinked, and the stain was gone. He examined his fingers, turning them this way and that, flexing them,…

“Oh, for the love of… Would you just _stop_?” he grumbled to himself.

He made himself focus, and gradually, eyes flicking to his accursed fingers from time to time, he succeeded in finishing his work. He sighed. Anything to keep his mind from Potter. Severus stood up, walked over to his cabinet and pulled out a bottle of tawny port. He would have one more glass to drink and then he would get ready for no doubt another sleepless night.

As it turned out, Severus slept like a baby.

 

 

 

SS

Things went downhill horribly fast after that. It happened during breakfast the following morning. Severus was on his way to the Great Hall, aware that he was later than usual. He was a bit light headed from the alcohol of last night, but for the first time that week, his shoulders were tension-free. He considered it a good sign. He had survived a war. He would overcome this as well.

Severus watched as a few students filed out of the Great Hall. Breakfast was served only for another fifteen minutes so he had to be quick if he still wanted to grab a bite. Potter was amongst the students that were leaving and he was lagging behind a bit with Neville Longbottom. Severus couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they were leaning toward each other, and Potter had his hand clamped on Longbottom’s shoulder. There was nothing strange about that, Severus told himself. But then Potter showed his fingers to Neville, four of them, and he _laughed,_ and suddenly all the blood drained from Severus’ face. From one moment to the next, there was no doubt left in him what this was about when he saw Potter and Longbottom whisper conspiratorially. Cold, cold rage wiped away any uncertainty, as he watched them both chortle in amusement. Potter was _telling_ him. They were _laughing_ at it. It didn’t matter that there was a voice inside the back of his mind that told him that it was absurd, that Potter would never humiliate himself like that. It didn’t matter, because the voice was irrelevant in the face of what he was seeing.

“Oh Potter, you…” Severus whispered lowly, just before all his common sense flew out the door. He whipped his wand out. There was unfinished business between him and that wretched boy…

 

 

 

 

SS


	3. A Christmas Curse

Getting Potter alone turned out to be child’s play. Severus would have been prepared to Stun and Obliviate Longbottom along the way in order to get to Potter, but the two boys split up almost as soon as they had left the Great Hall, offering Severus the perfect opportunity. A discreet, but well-aimed _‘Imperio’_ did the rest. In the small crowd of jabbering students, nobody noticed Potter’s face suddenly going curiously blank.

Did it make him as despicable as Potter was? Irrelevant. The point was that Potter urgently needed to learn a lesson about discretion. By the time Severus was through with him, he would know better than to cross him again.

Severus directed Potter away from his fellow students, around the corner, out of sight. Again, nobody paid attention to them, and soon he and Potter were walking through empty corridor after empty corridor, while Severus kept an eye out for witnesses. At first Severus didn’t really know where he was heading – it was not like he had planned it out in advance- but his feet seemed to wander towards the potion’s lab, so apparently that was to be his destination. He let Potter into the classroom and meticulously bolted the door with every spell he knew by heart. Severus realized that it was pointless to lock themselves in, because, if someone _did_ in fact decide to wander their way, Severus would be screwed in any case, regardless of all the warding spells in the world. Any student older than twelve was able to recognize warding spells, and would naturally become suspicious. With McGonagall no doubt immediately alerted, one thing would soon lead to another. Potter would be intimidated into confessing everything that had happened up until this point, and then Severus would get his resignation letter. That would be… _not_ so irrelevant, but Severus shrugged it off.

He turned around and took a moment to study Potter. He looked much the same as always – shock of hair, pale complexion, green eyes – only now a bit more daft than usual: vacant gaze, slack mouth, a little bit of saliva at the corner. He thoughtlessly wiped it away with his thumb and steered Potter towards a chair. Once Potter was seated, he pulled up a second chair and made himself as comfortable as possible under the circumstances.

“Right,” Severus muttered absentmindedly under his breath, and he tugged at his sleeves until they were impeccably covering his wrists again. When he looked up, Potter was just staring silently back at him, his hands lying docilely on his knees. Severus chuckled when he noticed.

“Well, aren’t you the incarnation of virtue all of a sudden,” he mocked quietly.

Severus had to admit he rather liked it that there was no snarky reply, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He would be able to insult Potter straight in his dumb face, and the only reaction he would get was silence. It was perfect.

“Where is your tongue, Potter?” he taunted, “Swallowed it?”

Of course, no reply came, and Severus allowed himself a moment to relish in triumph. Having a defenseless Potter in front of him was making him bold.

“Not so brash, now, aren’t you?” he whispered, leaning forward while resting his elbows on his knees, “I am going to discipline you, Potter. And no one is here to save you. Except maybe for me.”

He got up from his chair then, and walked over to the cupboard where he kept his potions stocked. He opened it and started looking for the potion he needed.

“I promise, you will be utterly humiliated by the time I am done with you. Rest assured that your days of blabbing will be over when my lesson sinks in,” Severus continued, realizing he sounded rather chirpy and not giving a damn, “Now where's...? Ah, there… Found it.”

Severus pulled out a tiny glass bottle, the kind you could also come across in an apothecary- the brown ones.

You see, Severus had come up with a plan. A very simple one, and unbelievably rash, too. A plan with a lot of flaws in it that he didn’t allow himself to think about. It was foolish and would no doubt blow up in his face, but he couldn’t stop himself from acting.

He would stage a scene. An exact copy of the embarrassing spectacle he had woken up to only a few days ago. He would lead Potter into believing they’d had uncontrolled, vicious sex and leave Potter behind in the classroom, so that when the boy awoke he would find himself quite alone, at display for anyone who chose to walk in. If such an experience didn’t humble Potter, then he didn’t know what would.

Of course, Severus knew the odds of someone walking into the potion’s lab during the Christmas holidays were one in a million. That wasn’t the point. The fact that it was _possible_ should be enough to terrify Potter out of his wits, and muzzle him once and for all. Severus purposefully pressed down any qualms about what he was about to do. He shouldn’t feel guilty, he told himself. The boy was just reaping what he had sowed. An eye for an eye.

“I’m going to pull a funny little prank on you, Potter,” Severus whispered, as he unscrewed the cap of the bottle with the lotion in it, “Mark my words, you’ll find it hilarious.”

Severus let a small drop of the lotion dribble on his finger and rubbed it between his finger and thumb. The white salve was normally used to cure burned skin, but when gushed on someone, looked an awful lot like semen. Severus would only need to alter the smell, and then his tableau would be finished. Severus had never felt this depraved, not even during his Death Eater days. The curious thing was that he couldn’t seem to bring himself to feel bad about it.

He guided Potter over to his teacher’s desk and the boy draped himself compliantly over it, stomach and cheek pressed flatly against the work surface. He was only wearing a bright red T-shirt and blue jeans. They would be easily dealt with. Severus pulled the T-shirt up to his shoulders, revealing the boy’s back. His eyes fell momentarily on a tiny birthmark on his left shoulder and he thoughtlessly traced his thumb over it. He saw the wiry muscles that ran down Potter’s spine. He touched the unblemished skin there, wondering how the boy’s body had remained free of scars during the war…

Irrelevant, he told himself. It didn’t matter if the boy had flawless skin or not. At least, it shouldn’t matter. But Severus could already sense a change of plans coming up if he wasn’t careful enough and he didn’t know how to feel about that.

He pulled himself together and reached for the front of the boy’s trousers, wrapping his arms around the thin waist. He undid the tiny button of his jeans and pulled the zipper down. The boy’s pants – a few sizes too large, Severus realized too late - instantly slid down to pool around his ankles. And Severus was left to stare at a perfect, round arse and couldn’t look away anymore. He had seen it before, of course, but…

 _"But the circumstances were different then, weren't they?"_ Severusthought. He shook his head, smiling only a little bit.

“Now where the hell did my anger go?” he muttered quietly to himself. He sighed, looking at Potter’s bottom, already resigning himself to the building arousal that was throbbing through his body.

_He shouldn’t, but…_

_No, he could still…_

His gaze shifted to the boy’s face and he understood instantly that he shouldn’t have done that. The boy’s lips were slightly parted and Severus had a sudden, vivid image of exploding all over that lovely face. He set his jaw, and swallowed.

“For Merlin’s sake,” he muttered, as he grabbed Potter under the armpits, pulled him up from the desk and pushed him onto the chair again. The boy was staring at him with unintelligent eyes and his mouth was ungracefully hanging open. Severus considered him for a moment, then swiftly closed the green eyes, then his mouth. That was better. He wouldn’t need that vacant gaze staring at him when he was coming.

He unbuckled his belt, undid his pants and let them drop to his ankles. He took hold of his length, gave his cock an experimental squeeze and nodded. He’d been right: this wouldn’t take overly long.

Severus looked at the boy’s face again, and he started to stroke himself. The boy’s eyes were closed, but he remembered how beautifully dark green they were. He thought about how they would look, glazed over with want, and how the boy would tilt his face slightly backwards, presenting it to him. Severus groaned and sped up his movements.

 _"Shit, this really won't take long..."_  he thought in a near frenzy, gripping his erection for dear life. He was feeling lust-crazed and the sight of the boy’s lips, which had parted ever so slightly again, wasn’t helping much. _He should just_ shove _himself between…_

“Fuck…” Severus cursed and he slid his fingers through the boy’s locks, making sure his grip was secure, before he angled Potter’s head back and the boy’s mouth fell open wide and _fuck,_ the sight was too much and he _came._

Through his clouded gaze he could still see what a mess he made of the boy’s face and that caused him so much pleasure he almost came all over again. He was aware he was spitting out curse after curse after curse, but he couldn’t seem to stop. It was _fucking_ perfect…

Finally he collapsed on his chair and tried to retrieve his breath. He took deep gulps of air, realized he was shaking and willed himself to calm down. He would need to leave very soon, he knew. Nobody had discovered them yet, but he didn’t want to push his luck in that regard. He’d already pushed his luck on so many other levels anyway.

Potter was looking… quite delicious, he had to admit. His face was a piece of art. There were spurts of semen on his left cheek, on his lips, across his eyebrow,…

A small chuckle escaped his lips and Severus started. He immediately covered his mouth, feeling slightly guilty for being amused by what he saw. Then he gave in and broke into laughter. He sat there for a long time, seemingly unperturbed, while he watched the boy with a content, relieved smile on his face, thinking about how brilliantly he had gotten back at Potter.

SS

Later that morning, Severus was in his private quarters, diligently grading papers, when someone knocked harshly on his door. Severus froze, and involuntarily clenched his fingers tighter around his quill. _That would be…_

“Snape!” a furious voice yelled, “Open the fucking door, now!”

_Yes, Potter._

Well, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t been expecting it. Strangely, he found he had a hard time in keeping the corners of his mouth from twitching up. The boy was banging his fist against the door now.

“If you don’t let me in, I swear to God I will break down your door!” he threatened.

“ _Mmh, getting impatient," Severus pondered, "_ _I’d better not keep him waiting for too long.”_

He got up from his chair, leisurely walked over to the door, turned the key in the lock, then suddenly threw the door open wide, hoping it would throw Potter off guard.

It didn’t. The boy was staring at him as if he could throttle him, and he wasted no time at all in grabbing his collar and forcing him back into the room. He only stopped when Severus legs hit the desk and then he pointed his wand at the door and it banged shut. The room shook for a moment, several glass vials tinkled in their caskets, and his quill rolled off his desk.

Severus had no choice but to look the boy straight in the eye, and he just hoped he could reign in a chuckle.

“Hmm… something the matter?” he informed politely, knowing it would send Potter over the edge and not understanding why he would want that to happen.

The boy reacted exactly like he expected. He shook him briefly, but forcefully, and Severus was a bit surprised by his strength.

“You’ve crossed a line,” he growled. And, instead of trying to calm the boy, Severus did something that he knew would drive Potter up the wall: He quirked an eyebrow…


	4. A Christmas Curse

 

Potter tightened his grip on Severus’ collar, nearly suffocating him in the process.

“That a fact?” Severus managed to gurgle. He wrapped his hands around Potter’s wrists, gently trying to pry his fingers loose. He wasn’t scared, not by any means, but he would need a decent gulp of air soon and the boy was making it hard for him to breathe.

“You went too fucking far, leaving me there!” Potter was yelling in his face again, and pulling him closer in his fury.

Severus’ eyes darted down distractedly. _Was that spittle on his cheek? Had Potter just spewed in his face?_

“Hey, did you hear me? What is _wrong_ with you?”

Potter’s harsh question pulled him out of his thoughts. Severus looked into those aggressive, green eyes, he watched the blown pupils, and realized that Potter was, in fact, very serious about what he was saying. It seemed the irony of his question was lost on him.

“Who wants to know?” Severus taunted just slightly, “The Boy Whose Arse Eats Fists For Breakfast?”

If he had been aiming for the boy to shut up, he couldn’t have chosen a better reply. Potter was stunned into silence at once, and he gaped at him, shame darkening his cheeks and eyes. He let go of Severus’ collar and took a step back, then another. Severus breathed in deeply and rubbed his painful throat in relief.

“I was drunk then,” Potter protested, and the venom in his voice was a mere shadow of what it had been a moment before. Still, the accusation and anger didn’t leave his eyes.

“I sincerely hope so, Potter. It would make me sick to consider any other…”

“But _you_ weren’t,” the boy interrupted as if Severus hadn’t spoken, “You _weren’t_ drunk, but you still…”

“Potter, stop,” Severus cut him short, “The amount of alcohol is irrelevant in this case.”

“Then why…?”

Severus rubbed his eyes and sighed.

“If you’re looking for a reason: I did it to teach you a lesson.”

The corners of the boy’s mouth pulled down, as if he had just tasted something bitter.

“So this is about revenge, then,” the boy assumed, “For something I did when I wasn’t thinking clearly. How very dignified of you.”

Severus grimaced. The boy wasn’t entirely wrong in his assumption: he had been meaning to get back at him for what had happened that night. But stated flatly like that, it made Severus look like a bastard and he couldn’t have that. It was only part of the explanation after all.

“No, Potter,” he said, “I am not talking about the unfortunate occurrence from a few nights ago. This is about what you did, _in your right mind_ , if I might add, when you left the Great Hall with Longbottom this morning.”

Confusion flickered across the boy’s face as he blinked at him, and Severus shifted uneasily. This wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. He’d been prepared to see Potter either smirk at him in acknowledgement or cower in fear. Maybe… maybe the boy had gone daft while under the _Imperius_ and honestly couldn’t remember, Severus hoped.

“What are you talking about?” Potter asked genuinely bemused. Severus rubbed his neck, annoyed. He should have noticed some taunting expression on Potter’s face by now, if the boy was pretending to be ignorant. He gestured impatiently towards the boy in answer to his question.

Potter looked at himself for a moment, bewildered, obviously wondering what he was missing.

“What?” he asked, suddenly hesitant. Severus huffed angrily. Merlin, the boy got on his nerves…

“Your hand,” he spit out, like he was stating the obvious.

Potter inspected his two hands, turning them around and searching for clues as to what was going on. Well, Severus sure wasn’t going to help him get there.

“What about them?” the boy asked. Severus balled his hands into fists at the aggravating question. He caught himself scanning the room for something to throw at Potter.

Potter was waiting him out, so he grumbled and explained: “You were showing Longbottom your hand.”

“Erm…” Potter uttered – Severus could almost hear his mind working, trying to puzzle the pieces together.

“For Merlin’s sake, do I need to spell it out for you?” Severus burst out, “You were telling Longbottom about what happened between us, Potter. You were showing him your fingers. Like the ones that got stuck in your arse a few days ago, if you are able to recall something as inconsequential as that.”

The boy’s face remained expressionless as he blinked at him. In an indefinite moment, time seemed to slow down, and Potter looked at him for what could only be an eternity. Then the boy buried his face in his hands and he groaned, seemingly in shame, and Severus knew nothing but to draw the obvious conclusion from that. He couldn’t help but feel a sudden twinge of victory about being right after all.

“Merlin, you idiot,” Potter muttered then, and before Severus could reply indignantly, he continued: “You really thought that, did you?”

“There wasn’t much to misinterpret…” Severus sounded defensive even to his own ears.

“And yet you did,” the boy in front of him muttered angrily, “I was talking about the accident I’d gotten myself into yesterday, you dimwit! Neville's studying the Snargaluff Plant as a special Christmas project for Professor Sprout, and we were in the greenhouses doing research when the plants' thorns took a swing at my hand. _That’s_ what we were laughing about. You see…?”

Potter thrust his fingers obstinately in Severus’ face and he couldn’t deny the scratches he saw there: three small, dark pink gashes, parallel to one another, which looked to Severus like they could have been treated better. He removed Potter’s fingers away from his face so he could have a better look at them. Just what he’d thought: slightly swollen.

“Mhh…” he grumbled, ‘Did you disinfect these at all, Potter?”

The boy withdrew his hand abruptly. He stared at Severus like he had stung him.

“Did you hear _anything_ of what I just said?”

Severus sighed. “Yes. Now answer my question.”

“I…” Potter cursed, “… No.”

“I thought so.” Severus muttered, “Ever the cautious man, aren’t you?”

He strode over to his cabinet and pulled out a small bottle with Essence of Dittany and a cloth. He handed them to Potter, and said: “You should clean your wounds properly, Potter, no matter how small they are. They could get infected.”

At those words, Potter lost it, and he threw the cloth to the ground, screaming like a ten year old. Severus kept a careful eye on the Dittany, fearing it might go the same way as the cloth, and prepared himself for a last-minute save.

“Gah! Don’t be nice to me!” Potter yelled, “I’m entitled to my anger! I _want_ to feel angry with you, Severus!”

Severus tensed when he heard the boy call his name and a feeling of dread stole over him. He didn’t like where this was heading.

“You will call me professor, Potter,” he barked, “Or I will have your…”

“Don’t talk to me about respect,” Potter shot back, “You came all over me, for Merlin’s sake!”

“Well, maybe next time you will choose to think twice before you humiliate me again!” Severus bellowed.

They glared murderously at each other and for a moment it seemed like the situation was poised on a knife-edge. If one of them had dared to draw his wand right then, it would have no doubt escalated to a dirty fight. But Potter chose otherwise.

The boy chuckled. Then he laughed. And then it seemed he couldn't stop anymore.

“Oh, sweet Merlin,” he gasped, clutching his sides and crying with laughter, “Severus, you’re insane! Batshit crazy! Does anyone _know_ that?”

Severus’ eyes narrowed in dismay.

Potter shook his head, wiping away tears. “Look at us. I think we might be ready for the loony bin. Do you reckon we need professional help?"

“Speak for yourself, Potter,” he rumbled, “Now stop laughing. Get out.”

“Talking of psychiatrists,” the boy prattled on, grinning, "I've got some good stories from a few years ago, during the war. Maybe we can be each other’s…”

“Potter, are you _drunk_?” Severus asked, and despite himself he smirked, “Haven’t I taught you anything?”

“But…” Potter protested.

“Seriously, Potter, I have absolutely no intention of being your shrink. I will acknowledge you had a rough time during the war, as did I, but I don’t want to hear anything that you would possibly want to say about it.”

The boy tilted his head curiously to the side.

“Why not?”

Severus pinched his nose and sighed.

“Because I am _tired_ of having to talk about the war. Perhaps you haven’t noticed, Potter, but since my name is cleared, an awful lot of staff members seem to sympathize with me suddenly and have been coming to me to share their traumas. So believe me when I say I _cannot_ handle yours. And I _cannot_ handle your sexual frustrations. It doesn’t matter that only an hour ago you just had to handle mine. Yes, I realize that, Potter, I’m not entirely unfeeling. But now that’s over and done with, I just want to be… left alone.”

The boy assessed him for what felt like a long time. Severus let him. He didn’t particularly care anymore what Potter might be thinking of him. But somehow he was still relieved when the boy nodded at him in acceptance. Maybe he knew when to stop after all?

Severus sat down on the edge of his desk, and drummed his fingers on the oaken tabletop as he contemplated Potter.

“Look,” he spoke, “You abused me. And I abused you. We’re even. Now let’s call it a day. I don’t want to dig into this. I really don’t. Would you _please_ leave my office now, so I can continue with my life?”

Potter looked at him awkwardly. Severus couldn’t read his expression even if his life depended on it. He watched the boy reach out slowly until his fingers touched Severus’ cheek. Severus let him, because what more damage could it create after everything they’d done to each other already, and for a moment they just stared silently at each other. Then Severus drew back and shook his head ever so slightly. The boy understood.

“Even,” he said, and reached his hand out to Severus.

“Indeed,” Severus confirmed, and shook the boy’s hand briefly. When he realized he was relishing in its warmth a bit too much, he let go almost instantly.

“Now get the hell out,” he muttered quietly, “Take the Dittany and the cloth with you.”

Potter chuckled, shaking his head.

When the boy was gone, Severus resumed his seat behind his desk and continued with his work, trying very hard to ignore the fact that he had his hand pressed against his cheek in an attempt to retain Potter’s warmth.

SS

And so Christmas morning came, and Severus was in his usual seat at the breakfast table, clinging to what little dignity he had left as he tried desperately not to ogle at Potter in front of his colleagues. Minerva was attempting to engage him into civilized conversation, while he pushed his bacon and eggs around the plate.

“So you’ll come to the Christmas feast this evening then, Severus?” Minerva asked politely.

 _Damn woman._ Severus cut his bacon, brought it to his mouth and chewed slowly. A few seconds passed by. Severus put down his fork and knife and reached for his glass of water.

“For Merlin’s sake, Severus,” Minerva huffed and, rather uncharacteristically, took his cutlery away to get his attention, “Why are you ignoring me?”

Severus couldn’t help but smirk at the woman. He couldn’t help it either that his gaze flitted to Potter for a mere moment, to check if the boy perhaps got a kick out of it to see him being so obviously berated by the headmistress. But Potter wasn’t even looking his way. _Pathetic._

“You have been hinting about Christmas dinner all week, Minerva, as you well know. You seem to make an annual tradition of it,” he said, “You can drop the act now.”

Minerva sighed and Severus knew he was disappointing her. The truth was, he would have attended the feast for her, if he hadn’t been such a decidedly _un_ festive person. He had been to the Christmas Dinner once before. The forced exuberance, the fake smiles and suddenly familiar behavior between colleagues had made him uncomfortable. He hadn’t felt at ease while teachers chatted away – or, later in the evening, even engaged in dancing - with students, like the formal rules suddenly didn’t apply anymore. What was worse, he could picture only too clearly how Potter would work up the nerve to ask him to dance, and then he would have to decline in front of everyone, confirming once more what an uptight killjoy he was. No, he would try to stay under the radar again, this year even more than usual.

Minerva was looking at him questioningly, and Severus shook his head.

“Thank you for inviting me,” he answered her unspoken request, “But I think I will feel more comfortable within my own quarters this evening.”

“Alone,” Minerva stated, as she pursed her lips and scowled.

Severus smiled a little. Minerva tended to turn into a concerned mother hen whenever he chose to distance himself from people. She seemed to think he was wallowing in loneliness all the time. He wasn’t. He just liked to do things on his own.

“I think I’ll just be enjoying your Christmas gift, Minerva,” he replied, as he gestured towards the Potions’ book she had gotten him, “Nothing to worry about.”

Minerva shook her head slightly and said: “I think it’s a shame, Severus. It’s Christmas only once a year and everybody will be there. And to be honest… it gets embarrassing to have to excuse you to the other teachers every single year.”

“You don’t have to excuse….”

“Well, I do actually,” Minerva interrupted him, “because your colleagues _do_ ask about you. Don’t be so surprised, Severus. Do you think they don’t notice that you lock yourself up in your room every time?”

Severus sighed and shrugged.

“You know how I feel about the Christmas Feast, Minerva.”

“Yes, indeed,” she murmured, and she patted his arm. Severus shifted uncomfortably and wondered why Minerva sometimes made him feel like he was still just a boy. He looked away so he wouldn’t be confronted with her scrutiny and instead he got trapped by Potter’s just across the room. The boy was staring at him with wonder in his eyes. Or at least, Severus thought that was what it was. It could have been concern. Or jealousy. Could have been nothing. Or maybe, just maybe... Severus nervously licked his lips.

They both quickly averted their gazes and Severus tried to focus on Minerva again. But she had already followed his gaze and was now staring confusedly at him. Severus didn’t have enough time to get his act together, so he just snatched his cutlery out of her hands and tried to continue his breakfast as inconspicuously as he could.

“Your pupils are blown,” Minerva stated quietly. Severus threw her a look out of the corner of his eyes, noticing that she was blushing embarrassedly. He ignored her remark, while he wolfed down his breakfast in silence. For nearly a minute nothing was said between them, and instead of calming down, Severus found he grew more nervous by the second. Eventually, the minute passed, and, just as Severus pushed his empty plate aside, Minerva got up from her chair.

“Well, erm…” she muttered, “Enjoy your Christmas gift then.”

Severus had just enough time to nod and grumble his thanks, and then he watched her go with an uncomfortable feeling in his chest. He stared at the table, and distractedly pulled the book towards him. Severus flipped through its pages - _The Ethics of Healing Potions: table of content._

What conclusions could she have drawn exactly? She had merely caught him ogling at Potter once, and that could have easily been because he was distracted. Severus sighed and turned a page, rested his chin in his hand, then turned another page.

_Pain relieving potions… Medicine literature teaches us about a number of ointments, potions and pills that were used throughout the ages to help relieve pain. Certain of those are still used today, while others…_

He should have a conversation with Minerva about this. He couldn’t just assume that this would blow over and that she would forget about what she had seen. It was obvious that Severus had been staring at Potter. Ever since the… incidents…, thoughts of Potter had infested his mind and it seemed they were starting to seep through in his behavior.

He rubbed his eyes and yawned. Maybe he should just sleep some more. Merlin knew he couldn’t talk with Minerva like this. He felt tired…so tired… His head started lolling and he would give just about anything to rest his head on the table surface and sleep.

A gentle nudge made his eyes snap open. He had felt… Something had _nudged_ him, _inside_ his head. Like… like perhaps a spell. Or…

Severus jerked upright and instinctively pushed his magic out in front of him, like a shield. His eyes flew around the room and immediately spotted Potter, still sitting at the breakfast table. He was staring straight at him. In fact, he was the only one staring at him, because they were alone. Severus’ stomach dropped when he realized what Potter had just attempted to do to him. And that infuriating boy was sitting in his chair that was angled towards him, the wand he had just used on Severus clutched in a tense fist as he tried a tentative smile.

Severus lost it. He got up so quickly that his chair toppled backwards. He swiftly whipped out his wand from his pocket and took long strides to get his hands on Potter as fast as possible.

“How dare you use…” he growled, “ _Imperio!”_

The blast bursting from his wand tip was perhaps a hundredfold compared to Potter’s. In the back of his mind, Severus knew that meant the boy hadn’t really been trying to curse him – merely been teasing him a bit to come out and play, perhaps. But Severus was too furious, he didn’t care anymore. Potter needed to learn to think.

It seemed the boy had been anticipating some kind of reaction. Not quite that forceful obviously, but the boy was quick enough to defend himself. He pointed his wand and hastily cast a protection charm around him. It wasn’t very strong and Severus watched the boy struggle to hold onto the spell, teeth gritted together.

Severus lowered his wand then. Out of pity, out of concern, in a moment of temporary madness – Severus didn’t know. He didn’t have time to think it through, because the next second Potter panicked when he saw that Severus was still advancing on him, jumped up from his chair and aimed at him again.

“S… Stop!” he screamed hoarsely, “ _Imperio!”_

Severus blocked the curse with a flick of his wand and then he had reached Potter and wrenched his wand away from him. He grabbed Potter by his shirt and saw the terror in the boy’s eyes and that only made him more furious, and as he yanked Potter’s head back by his hair he couldn’t believe how hard he was. He wanted to bite those lips until all he could think of was how swollen they were. He needed to lay that neck bare so he could ravage the skin until bruised. And most of all, he hungered to see those soft, pink buttocks again, and claim them.

“Potter…” he groaned, “You wretched…” He unthinkingly threw the boy down onto the table, and in his panicked struggle, Potter accidentally swept his half-finished glass of orange juice to the ground. It shattered to a thousand pieces and juice spilled all over his shoes. It didn’t matter, because Severus climbed on top of Potter and slowly and deliberately bucked his hips forward. The boy gasped and looked at him in surprise and Severus couldn’t agree more: he was astonished as well. Severus watched as confusion pushed away the fear in Potter’s eyes, and then finally, thank Merlin, the boy closed his eyes and frantically slid his arms around him. The boy searched for something: his hands were on Severus’ back, then on his face, and then he’d found what he was looking for. They kissed ferociously, filling each other’s mouths with delicious tongue and Severus tasted cinnamon and apple. He made a mental note to thank Potter for not eating the black pudding that was also served for breakfast, as he relished in the taste of the boy’s mouth. Potter was turning himself into a breathtaking show: he moaned continually and bucked up against him and he couldn’t seem to stop groaning Severus’ name.

“Potter…” Severus chuckled, as the boy squeezed his arse like he was kneading bread.

“Fuck you, I’m Harry,” the boy whispered in his ear and pulled him closer.

But Severus had frozen and he pushed himself up on his elbows to look around the room. He had definitely heard footsteps.

“Wha…” Potter began, as he tried to turn his head, but Severus shushed him. He listened again. Yes, he had been right. A soft tread, but it was definitely coming their way. Severus didn’t know how fast he could get away from the boy, still lying lusciously on the table with a shirt that was ripped open.

 _Merlin, what had he been thinking?_ …

He shook his head. “I must have been out of my mind,” he whispered incredulously.

The boy got up, and Severus again read panic in his eyes, although he suspected it to be for a different reason now. The boy grasped his face and he pleaded: “Severus, please. I can come with you. We can…”

“No no no,” Severus shook his head, as he disentangled himself from the boy, “Someone’s coming.”

Severus could still hear the footsteps, but they were further away now. There was no immediate danger anymore. Except if it were for the boy he was so desperately close to fucking. But he couldn’t let that happen. Not here. Not now they’d told each other that they were even. That their game was over and done with. He wanted a quiet life, damnit!

Severus backed away. Potter was looking at him like he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Severus, it’s Christmas,” he begged. Which was of course in no way a valid reason to fuck Potter senseless.

“I’m sorry, Potter,” Severus apologized quietly, “I don’t know how we ended up here, but we both know this is not a good idea.”

“I will tell you again, Severus: Fuck you. It’s Harry,” the boy replied, the corners of his mouth turned down dejectedly.

Severus nodded and brushed something of his sleeves in a nervous gesture.

“Harry,” he confirmed.

Harry took one step towards Severus.

Severus inhaled sharply, turned around, and fled.


	5. A Christmas Curse

 

It appeared Severus had to come to terms with the fact that he didn’t know himself as well as he thought he did. He had never believed it to be possible, but the entirely unwelcome evidence in his trousers proved him all wrong: he _was_ a degenerate, not worthy to be a teacher. There was no point in denying it: he’d wanted to fuck Harry Potter like he hadn’t wanted to fuck anybody else before. Even now, twenty minutes later, he still throbbed with alarming need. He wandered the grounds of Hogwarts restlessly, baffled by the sheer force of his desperation. The thought to march back in there and just take what he wanted had crossed his mind at least a dozen times in the last few minutes.

He knew that he should do something in order to calm down. Perhaps he could take a cold shower. That ought to work to make his cock shrink back to an appropriate size. But thoughts about a shower lead to images about taking a shower with Potter, which in the end lead to slightly criminal fantasies about actually _showering_ the boy…

“ _Potions then,”_ he thought desperately, “ _I could brew a potion to keep my mind preoccupied. Something that takes an eternity to ferment.”_

But one look at the castle where his potion lab was, ruled out that possibility as well. No way was he going back in there just yet. It was still too dangerous. If he ran into Potter on the way to his lab, who knew what would happen? He had learned by now that Harry couldn’t be counted upon to have the bloody grace to stop him when necessary. _A treacherous, gutless boy, that’s what he was, who hadn’t the balls to thwart him when he needed it the most._

Nevertheless, Severus realized, he needed to do _something_. It seemed his aching erection hadn’t the decency to just disappear. He tried thinking about the work that was still waiting for him on his desk, but that only distracted him until he caught himself imaging Potter spread out on that very same desk, legs coiled tightly around him like the fierce embrace of a python. He attempted to drive out the image of those trembling, tense thighs by picturing Hagrid in a G-string, but decided right then and there that if he had to resort to appalling measures like that, he should just give it up as a lost cause.

If he continued walking away from the castle, he would eventually end up in the gardens of Hogwarts. There was a chance he would encounter some stray students there. The gardens were open to the public after all. Not a good place then. At his left hand side he could see the Black Lake, and in the background the Forbidden Forest shimmered threateningly in the cloudy morning light. He turned around towards the castle again, and cursed. No, he wasn’t going to go back inside. Not yet. In his own time, when he felt ready. He turned briskly to the left and went for the greenhouses.

 SS

 “Crap…” Severus cursed, “Shit.”

He just realized he didn’t carry a handkerchief with him, so he went for the closest thing available and that turned out to be one of the flowerbeds. He came as silently as possible, blushing in shame even though he knew he was alone. He’d darkened one of the many windows the greenhouse counted and hid behind it as he quickly jacked off. Just like last time, it didn’t take very long to bring himself off, not with images of Harry Potter raiding his mind. He stared at the spunk he’d just shot on the soil and shuddered. Merlin knew what plants it would sprout in the near future. He thought about vanishing his semen, had already pointed his wand in fact, but then he smirked. He turned around, pocketing his wand again and went for the door. “ _Let Pomona figure it out,”_ he thought.

He wrapped his arms around himself, in an attempt to hold off the cold that lashed out at him when he stepped out of the greenhouse. He quickly cast a warming charm and looked around for a few moments. He couldn’t go back to the castle just yet, he knew that. His gaze raked over the edges of the Forbidden Forest, and Severus decided he might as well take the opportunity to gather some more herbs and plants for his potions. He would need more Dandelion Root and Fluxweed for his lessons about healing potions anyway.

Severus reached the edge of the forest and started looking for the roots, trying to not overthink what he had just done in the greenhouse. It had been a matter of urgency. He hadn’t been able to help himself.

Severus crouched down and dug his fingers into the ice cold earth in order to reach the root he’d just spotted. It was dirty work, but after digging out a few more of those plants, Severus had to admit he liked the simplicity. Look, crouch down, dig, extract, put away. It was as straightforward as that. Nothing complicated. No one was expecting things of him here. He looked back at the castle, where he knew Harry would no doubt be waiting when he returned. While he worked, Severus decided he wouldn’t refuse the boy a second time. Potter had proven time and again that his flesh was weak. Well then, so be it. He wasn’t going to fight it any longer.

Severus distractedly cast a tempus charm. Two and a half hours had passed. He made a deal with himself: if he persevered for another half hour, he would treat himself to a real winter dish in the Leaky Cauldron. Tom would be only too happy to see him again so soon. Usually Severus visited the pub only a few times a year. Shepherd’s pie and mashed potatoes, he decided, that sounded good. Just thirty more minutes. Severus looked, crouched down and dug with renewed motivation.

 SS

Severus deeply inhaled the scent of the dish that was put in front of him, and sighed. He was frozen to the bone, and ravenous as well, he realized just now.

“Thank you, Tom,” Severus shivered, “Smells delicious.”

The older man looked fondly at him and shook his head. He handed him a glass of Firewhiskey with the words: “Go on, drink up. It’s on the house.”

Severus regarded the man with gratitude and inclined his head as he took a sip. The whiskey glowed in his throat and chest, but Severus knew it would take a while before the pleasant warmth had reached his fingers and toes as well. He put the glass down on the counter and took a bite of the pie. He sighed again, humming his approval. Tom smiled and started toweling off a few plates and glasses.

“Been getting your hands dirty again then, haven’t you?” he asked, gesturing towards Severus’ grimy fingernails. Severus flinched and caught himself wanting to hide his hands under the counter. He convinced himself of the fact that Tom wasn’t aware of anything that had happened in the past few days, but the question still unsettled him. If only he knew exactly how dirty Severus’ hands were, would he still feel so affectionate towards him? Severus doubted it.

“Erm, yes,” he muttered, “Dandelion Root. Tough little plant.”

“Only you would be crazy enough to go looking for it in the blistering cold, Severus,” Tom replied, “On Christmas day, no less.”

Severus forced a smirk onto his face.

“Builds character,” he explained, then added, “Who needs Christmas cheer anyway, when there’s Dandelion to dig out?”

Tom chuckled and shook his head.

“Whatever you say," he smirked, “Just make sure you don’t freeze out there.”

Severus smiled and returned his attention to his meal. It really tasted divine. Maybe he should come here more often.

“So, not attending tonight’s Christmas Feast at Hogwarts, are you?” Tom asked carefully. Severus shook his head. At least he didn’t have to explain himself to Tom. He knew and understood how he felt about that annual circus.

“If you want, you can spend the evening here,” Tom offered, “There are a few others who don’t have anywhere else to go and will celebrate here, at the pub. You would be most welcome, you know that.”

Severus considered it for a moment. A few years ago he had taken Tom up on his offer once. It had been a pleasant night and he’d had a chance to talk with his friend all evening, since there had been hardly any customers for Tom to serve. The food had been excellent and the liquor had flowed freely and Severus had watched in amusement as one of the customers started spluttering some old forgotten wizard song…

But Severus knew he needed to be at the castle tonight. He didn’t want to, but he needed to. He should be in his quarters, just in case… Even though he knew it was stupid. Stupid and irresponsible.

“Thank you, Tom, but I’m going to have to decline,” he said, “I’ve got work to do this evening.”

Tom shook his head.

“At least promise me you won’t be working anymore today, Severus”, he asked, “Curl up under a blanket with a book if you must, but please tell me you won’t be preparing lessons or grading.”

Severus smirked and replied: “You don’t have to be so concerned. I won’t die because of a little bit of grading.”

“I know that,” Tom replied, not unkindly, “I’m asking you because I am your friend and I would feel bad when you are alone on Christmas when you could be enjoying yourself.”

“I might have plans for tonight,” Severus blurted out, “Don’t worry about me.”

He didn’t have a clue why he had said that, but the thought was reassuring. If Harry showed up on his doorstep, then, well… he wouldn’t be alone anymore. And if he didn’t, then he could still decide to attend the Christmas Dinner, if he was in the mood. Maybe just dinner, and then he would leave. Or he could follow Tom’s advice and read a book. “ _You see,”_ he thought, “ _plenty of opportunities. The world is my oyster.”_

Severus and Tom talked until it grew dark outside, and then Severus decided to go back. Tom handed him a bottle of oak matured mead under the counter.

“A Christmas gift,” he explained, “Put it away, you fool! I don’t want the other patrons to see I’m handing out free mead.”

Severus chuckled, thanked Tom while clapping him on the shoulder with the promise to bring him a gift as well and then he went on his way.

SS

Severus was shivering with cold when he entered his quarters. He carefully put away the roots and the Fluxweed in his cupboard, then went to the bathroom in order to prepare himself a piping hot and much needed bath. He could just conjure the water with a flick of his wand, but he wasn’t in the mood, so he turned the faucets to fill the bath the old fashioned way. He added one of his favorite scented oils – honey, tobacco and cedarwood. He then walked back to the living room, unbuttoned his cloak and draped it thoughtlessly over a chair, already mentally picking the book he would read tonight. _Perfume,_ maybe. He loved that book. He summoned it, and just as it flew towards him across the room, there was a quiet knock. Severus nearly failed to catch the book and he cursed. He stood there for a moment, book pressed against his chest, and he couldn’t believe how fast his heart was hammering suddenly. He put the book down on the table and took a deep breath, before walking towards the door.

“Who’s there?” he asked, just loud enough to hear on the other side, he hoped.

There was a short silence, and Severus wondered why that always seemed to be the case when one desperately needed an answer.

Then: “It’s me… Harry.”

Severus unthinkingly laid a hand against the door, and sighed. He was astonished at how relieved he felt.

“Will you let me in?” Harry asked, “Please?”

Severus leaned his forehead against the wood that separated them and breathed in and out.

“Give me a reason,” he replied softly.

Severus could almost feel Harry’s hesitation on the other side of the door.

“Erm… It’s Christmas? And I don’t want to feel lonely?” he heard the boy say. Severus smiled. His heart raced, because that was exactly what he had wanted to hear. His hand flexed in a nervous gesture. He would open the door.

“Harry, you know what will happen when I let you in, don’t you?” he asked, just to be sure.

He heard the boy on the other side exhale impatiently.

“Yes. Why do you think I came all the way down to these cold dungeons for?” he answered, and Severus could almost see him shivering.

“Tell me,” Severus demanded nevertheless.

“Excuse me?”

“Tell me what will happen, Harry.”

Again, there was a moment of silence. Then Harry groaned.

“For Merlin’s sake, Severus, I’m not good with words… I don’t…”

The boy had cut himself off, and if Severus had to guess, he would say that the boy was thinking about a proper reply.

“When you let me in,” he finally said, and it sounded like a pledge, “I will make you forget who I am.”

Severus smirked. It wasn’t really the answer he wanted, but on the other hand, he had to admit the boy knew how to read him well.

“I doubt it, Harry,” he replied, and then he opened the door.

Harry Potter was standing in the doorway, in his seeker outfit. Severus pulled up an eyebrow, feeling a bit puzzled.

“Been flying?” he asked, and he couldn't help raking his eyes over Harry's fit body. The boy just nodded, looking for all the world like he was just another awkward teenager. But of course he wasn’t. Severus knew that by now.

"How did you know I was back in the castle?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe, only slightly challenging the boy. But he wasn't intimidated in the slightest.

“I have my sources,” he replied cheekily, “What were you doing in the greenhouse earlier?”

If Severus would have had any retort to that at all, it would have stuck in his throat. He turned red and quickly muttered something about research. The boy just smiled, probably drawing his own conclusions.

Harry’s gaze shifted away then, and it seemed he was looking at something behind Severus.

“You were going to take a bath?” he asked Severus, gaze returning to fix inquiringly on his face.

“We are,” Severus blurted out.

He watched the boy swallow and avert his gaze.

“Oh,” Harry said dumbly.

Severus scrutinized the boy for a moment, and then gently pointed out: “Harry, if you can’t share a bath with me, then I’m not sure what you’re hoping to find between my sheets.”

He watched Harry swallow again.

“Sorry,” the boy muttered, “I was just taken by surprise, that’s all. You see now I’m not so brave without the alcohol?”

Severus grimaced and decided not to comment.

“Well, I’m here to celebrate Christmas with you, if you want to. It’s yours for the taking, but I’m not going to stand in the doorway all evening. It’s cold.”

Harry took a deep breath and nodded.

“Christmas it is,” he said and Severus felt a thrill of... something... go through him as Harry pushed past him, and went straight for the bathroom.

Severus smiled and closed the door.

“Christmas indeed,” he confirmed quietly.

 

 

 

 

 

THE END


End file.
